


Burial At Sea

by Merkwerkee



Series: Pilots of ARENA [6]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: The mortal remains of Daveon find their rest
Series: Pilots of ARENA [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643143





	Burial At Sea

_It starts with a shift in the grass, an instability in the cliff itself._

On a cliff overlooking an ocean, there is a pole.

It has a crossbar, to which a few, moldy scraps of fabric still cling, but there’s not much left of whatever was there. A flag, one that meant much to many. Not that you can tell anymore; time and tide wait for no one and inexorable entropy’s eaten away nearly all that it was.

The pole itself is unremarkable; it is some kind of metal, but not one you’d find in this land. Not that its foreign composition has saved it from the salt in the wind. It’s mottled up an down with corrosion, and some pieces have fallen away entirely. One day the ocean will have it all.

_It continues with a groan, a rumble, a subsonic vibration that sends local wildlife scattering in fear._

There’s something at the base of the pole, where it is shrouded by a veritable riot of small plants. Most of them are flowering, sweet scents lingering in the air and blossoms obscuring the base of the pole. There’s a definite shape to the greenery, but it’s not until the vine are moved aside that said shape becomes as clear as the bleached-white bones that are revealed in that fashion.

The whole skeleton rests intact, the vines having grown up and around and through the bones which themselves interlock a surprising amount. A grinning skull with sharp teeth and half a dozen empty eyesockets rests on the ground in front of the flag, just in front of a spinal column that traces a line nearly two meters in length from skull to what are very clearly pelvic bones, with another three meters describing a gentle arc of a tail.

The shoulders and ribs - two of which are broken - rest against the base of the pole, and one bony arm is tied to it by small tendrils of vines seeking the sunlight. The claws, anchored to the bone of the last joint in each finger, shine dully in the sunlight, polished smooth by the salt-laden sea air.

_It rises to a roar, a howl, a spray of dust rising towards the heavens._

Indeed, the skeleton in its entirety is remarkably smooth. No scavengers have disturbed this corpse, nor the pole to which it clutches, nor the banner that flies from the pole. Perhaps it is because the skeleton does not belong there, perhaps it was out of respect for its passing.

No matter why, no matter how, time and tide wait for no one.

_It ends with a cascade of stone and bone and soil and metal, as the cliff slides gently into the embrace of the sea._


End file.
